An Object To Crave
by Abforth and Duckchick
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a rich, spoiled brat. Blaise Zabini is a beautiful, graceful mystery. When Blaise decides to run away at the end of School, she plunges into a life of wild adventure, unaware that she's left her heart behind with a man she can't love.


An Object to Crave. By Duckchick and Abforth  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Blaise Zabini sat listening to Professor Snape's lecture on the importance of correctly measuring ingredients for the various potions they were about to study. One of them was the Mesmrixa Mix, a potion that acted as a powerful hypnotic and made the person ingesting it very susceptible to suggestion. Even dangerous ones, like stealing a dragon's egg or jumping out a window. And the person would act perfectly normal if caught, as if acting of their own volition, which made catching the person truly responsible almost impossible.  
  
The gleeful looks on her fellow housemates made her stomach turn.  
  
She glanced around for a moment, taking in the air of relaxed indifference of her fellow Slytherins and the tenseness of the unfortunate Gryffindors, who'd just lost five points because Harry Potter had sneezed. Blaise tapped her quill on her desk, feeling momentarily sorry for the Lions. Snape never gave them a break.  
  
She was turning back to her notes when a folded paper suddenly dropped on her desk, startling her. She turned to the direction she thought it might have come from, and saw Draco Malfoy smiling coolly at her. Rat-faced boor! What did he want?  
  
After quickly making sure Snape hadn't noticed anything (she was actually sure he had, but was ignoring it) she pulled the note under her desk and discreetly opened it.  
  
Blaise, I've heard that you don't yet have an escort to the End of Term Ball. I wanted you to know that I would be more than happy to accompany you, and I'm sure we would have a grand time. Let me know what you'll be wearing because my dress robes have green in them this year, and I think you'd want to match up. D.M.  
  
Blaise reread the note slowly, her temper flaring hotter every second. That dim-witted arse actually thought she would be caught dead in his company? Blaise raised her eyes to him, trying to control the angry words that wanted to tumble from her lips. He was facing the professor, a small smile lighting his face. There was that touch of arrogance in his expression that never seemed to leave, which had always irked her. His fine boned features appeared carved from ice, an impression enhanced by his always narrowed eyes and ever present smirk. It was as if he was always sizing you up and then comparing you to himself, trying to calculate if you were worthy of his attention.  
  
Well, thank you, Oh Lord of the Snakes! She thought angrily, trying to quell the idea that really he was quite handsome. She looked down at the note in her hand again, carefully composing a response in her head. After a moment, she picked up her quill.  
  
Dear Mr. Malfoy, You seem to be under the impression that I desire your presence in my life, even for a few short hours. Allow me to correct that: Drop dead. Sincerely Yours, B.Z.  
  
Blaise folded the note, and as soon as Snape turned to write on the chalkboard, she tossed the note back to Malfoy, then began copying instructions from the board. She smiled serenely when she heard Draco hiss, "What?"  
  
~*~  
  
Draco stood in the shadows of the Slytherin common room, having just come down the stairs from his room. She was here, just as he'd known she would be. Blaise Zabini, the most beautiful girl in his class.  
  
And the most distant.  
  
He smiled as he watched her, watched the way her dark brown hair lay upon her shoulders like a cloud, and how the firelight reflected in her dark eyes. She was alone, as everyone else had long since retired, and that accounted for why she was in her dressing gown and was barefoot. He liked seeing her thus; it added an air of vulnerability that she usually never displayed.  
  
He had always liked her, admired her independence. Among Slytherins, it was difficult to make true friends, though you'd have allies aplenty. But Blaise had never been deterred by convention, preferring instead to do as she herself saw fit. Even if that included scorning a date with the most favored Slytherin in the school. She didn't seem to care that making a Malfoy her enemy was a bad idea. Then again, she didn't have any real friends that he could think of, even among her fellow Slytherins. It couldn't be that hard, now, could it?  
  
He thought of his own dear friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and winced. They made excellent defenders, but whenever he talked to them, it was more a case of talking to himself. He could bounce thoughts and ideas off of them all day long and not have his stream of thought interrupted in any way. Maybe it was hard.  
  
He looked at her again, and marveled at how alone she seemed. There was a melancholy sadness in her eyes that never went away, though it could be overpowered by her anger or shrunk by a rare smile. He recognized that sadness, that feeling of being alone even in a crowded room, because as time passed, he found himself less and less sure about the paths he wanted to tread in life.  
  
His eyes unfocused and he thought of his father, Lucius Malfoy. Draco was fully expected to walk in his father's footsteps and join the Dark Lord, and while he'd been young, he'd followed that preplanned path blindly. But the older he'd gotten, the more he'd felt the need to be his own person without regard to what his father, or mother, or peers expected. Of course, that wasn't as easy as it sounded. Lucius Malfoy was a strict parent who brooked no defiance, especially not from his own son. Draco vividly recalled the time he'd found a Muggle magazine in the street, and had begun idly flipping through it. Lucius had snatched the thing out of his hands and threw it away, never giving Draco the chance to explain the he'd merely found it. The fact that he'd looked at it was crime enough, and Draco had endured acidic comments and references to it for the rest of the week.  
  
Draco stared at the floor beneath his own bare feet, frowning. That had been a small incident, and he didn't feel like remembering the really bad ones. Closing his eyes, he forced his mind to calm emptiness, just as Professor Snape had taught him. One deep breath in, one breath out. It helped to gather his thoughts and calm the whirling storm that could fill his mind. After a moment he was able to breathe easier, and opened his eyes.  
  
Blaise was still there, only now she was standing and staring into the fire itself. The sadness in her eyes had receded, replaced by a look of determination. Something heavy was on her mind, and she looked very certain as to what she was going to do about it.  
  
"I can go to Europe," she said aloud, startling him, "or to America. They won't care, or if they do, they can't stop me! School's almost finished, so I can do what I like!"  
  
Draco stared. What was she talking about? Her parents or herself? Or perhaps both?  
  
Both, as in she had no intention of returning home?  
  
He strained his ears, waiting for her to speak again. But she remained silent, staring into the dying embers of the fire, which only made the fire in her own eyes glow brighter. He felt himself smile again. That inner fire, that strength, was what made her so special. It was what made boys want her, including himself. The End of Term Ball was coming up, and he wanted Blaise on his arm for that event.  
  
~*~  
  
"Hmm, I think Europe is nice this time of year;, of course, America is further away." a low voice said from behind, making her jump. She spun around to face Draco Malfoy, who leaned casually against the fireplace regarding her.  
  
"What?" she stumbled.  
  
An evil glint flashed in his eye when he repliedsaid quite calmly, "You're running away." .  
  
"I.how did.?" she deflated a little, "I spoke out loud."  
  
"Terrible habit that."  
  
She rolled her eyes and gave him a look, knowing her eyes were probably burning. "Well, it has nothing to do with you."  
  
"Oh, doesn't it?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her. They way he was leaning back against the mantel piece, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his lips and a spark in his eyess, caused Blaise to be unsure as to whether she wanted to hit him with something hard, or kiss him.  
  
"Do you have a date for the ball yet?" he interrupted coolly.  
  
"No, and I'm not." she started, didn't he understand 'no' when he heard it?  
  
"Well then, let me commandeer the hand of the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts," he said.  
  
"Sorry, I think Padma Patil has a date already."  
  
"Blaise," he warned, in a low voice that sounded strangely attractive, "I have something you want and you have something I want. Why don't we come to a. mutual agreement?"  
  
"You mean blackmail," she said coldly.  
  
"Now, blackmail is such a harsh way to put it. don't you think?"  
  
"Whatever you call it, it's the truth. If I don't go to the ball with you. it might reach my parents that I'm not planning on coming home."  
  
"Well, I can't make any promises, but I would try extra hard not to mention it to anyone. Although with your habit of talking aloud."  
  
They looked at each other; she tried to guess what the slimy git was thinking. Nevertheless, his face remained blank, although his eyes glowed with something; was it triumph? A frustrated anger burned in her belly, she couldn't see anyway out of it. Was it worth it? She thought of returning home to her family in that house and realized that maybe it was. After all, he was handsome and it would keep him quiet. After the ball, it wouldn't matter who he told, she'd be long gone.  
  
"Okay," she said reluctantly, "but if you mention it to anyone."  
  
He grinned and she decided that hitting was definitely the way to go, a very hard kick to the shine would do it.  
  
"Now, why would I want to do something like that?" he said, languidly stretching for her hand. He kissed her palm, his eyes burning into her soul. She was surprised when a tingling sensation started where his soft lips brushed her skin. She attempted to even out her breath as he strolled away confidently, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.  
  
She fervently hoped someone threw a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him right before the event.  
  
~*~  
  
The Great Hall was decked out with Luminous Flowers and lit with hundreds of candles, forming dancing patterns of light across the silverware. Ribbons of every color swirled through the air, spelling out "Congratulations" and then forming themselves into the names of particular Seventh years. Several rows of chunky candles were singing loudly by the doors, placed upon wooden benches. Bright sparks of light shot out whenever they reached a particularly harmonious note; one of them was looking particularly sorry for itself, it was nearly at the end of its wick, but it soldiered on, despite sounding like a very angry cat.  
  
Blaise smiled when she saw a lilac ribbon spell her own name, but it disappeared the next moment when Malfoy's name was spelled out by a nearby silver ribbon. She adjusted the collar of her red velvet dress robes, hoping the night would pass quickly.  
  
Malfoy gave her an appraising look, although she was unsure whether he liked what he saw. He stood silent for a moment, and Blaise was stifling the urge to ask sarcastically whether she passed muster, when he reached into an inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a lovely, red rose. Blaise was so surprised she automatically took the proffered gift, noticing that it was unusually vibrant and fresh looking. Perhaps he'd had it plucked from the gardens only a while ago. But as she continued to hold the rose, it began to emit a soft, inner light. Blaise stared, momentarily mesmerized by the flower's beauty. She'd heard of these types of spell laden gift, and they were both complicated and expensive. She looked back up at Malfoy, frowning slightly. Why go through the trouble for a date he'd practically blackmailed?  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, sniffing the flower's rich fragrance and feeling a sudden, not to mention annoying, sense of gratitude. Malfoy nodded, offering her his arm. She had to accept that he looked good, even if she would never admit it to another living soul (or dead for that matter). As they wandered towards their table, she absently noted that the boys where looking at her, but was surprised to discover that they were shooting looks of jealously in Malfoy's direction. A fact that had obviously not missed his attention, as he returned the glares with smug smiles as they passed through the hall, all in all, he looked very pleased with himself . She wanted very much to wipe the smile off his face, but the thought of her packed trunk waiting in her room stopped her. Just a few hours and she could pick up the Galleons her grandmother had left her, hop on a train out of the country and relish in her new found freedom.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, sniffing the flower's rich fragrance and feeling a sudden, not to mention annoying, obligation to be more pleasant than she'd intended. Malfoy nodded, offering her his arm. She had to accept that he looked good, even if she would never admit it to another living soul (or dead for that matter). As they wandered towards their table, she absently noted that the boys where looking at her, but was surprised to discover that they were shooting looks of jealously in Malfoy's direction. A fact that had obviously not missed his attention, and he was looking very smug about it. She wanted very much to wipe the smile off of his face, but the thought of her packed trunk waiting in her room stopped her. Just a few hours and she could pick up the Galleons her grandmother had left her, hop on a train out of the country, and relish in her new found freedom.  
  
Malfoy pulled out a chair for her to sit in, and took his seat next to her. She glanced across the table to find Pansy Parkinson glaring at her with narrowed eyes, and she felt herself smile nicely at her, which only served to annoy the girl even more. Blaise felt a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of Pansy's obvious jealousy. Perhaps the evening might yield a few pleasures after all.  
  
"Good evening, Pansy," Blaise said politely.  
  
"Blaise," Pansy nodded coldly at her, "lovely robes you're wearing. I hear that red is the color of shameless sinners against decorum."  
  
Blaise smiled at Pansy's weak and rather obvious dig. "Really? I hadn't heard that before. I simply liked them."  
  
"And they compliment you beautifully," Malfoy cut in smoothly, laying a hand on Blaise's shoulder.  
  
Pansy pursed her lips tightly, her face flushing, though whether from anger or embarrassment Blaise didn't know. Nor did she care. It was enough to see the pampered princess set down on her bum by the boy she'd chased for seven years.  
  
"Shall we dance?" Malfoy's voice interrupted her thoughts.  
  
No, she thought, trying not to frown. She didn't particularly want to enjoy the night, but if she wanted it to pass quickly, it would be necessary to keep herself occupied. She took his hand wordlessly and they swept out onto the dance floor.  
  
Malfoy surprised her by being a great dancer, slightly better than herself. Dancing was not a skill she'd cultivated willingly, but when part of the upper crust one had to make sacrifices towards decorum. And dancing was a necessary social skill. He swayed and waltzed brilliantly, and she felt her slight self-consciousness disappear.  
  
When the song ended, she turned to go back to the table. Malfoy, however, pulled slightly on her hand to stop her. Surprised, she turned towards him with a frown, wondering what he wanted. Another song started, a slow and sensual beat to the music. Malfoy smiled at her and pulled her back towards him, and Blaise had to once again picture her packed trunk in order to keep herself from yanking out her wand and throwing the Densuageo Curse at him. Instead, she pictured the effects of the curse, and imagined his teeth becoming so grotesquely enlarged that they scraped the ground and would be the only things holding him upright. She quickly bowed her head so he wouldn't see her grin.  
  
She allowed him to pull her close, but stiffened when she felt his arm wrap about her waist. She almost reared back, but silently commanded herself to be still. She felt her face flush hot at the sudden contact with his body, and willed herself to be calm. His hand was warm in hers, and his sleek muscular frame pressed close to her soft curves. She could feel his cheek next to her own, and his warm breath tickled her ear. Goose bumps broke out over her arms, and she felt tingles race down her body. She felt confusion wash over her, clouding her senses further, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to focus. He was no one, a spoiled rich boy who was too arrogant to realize what an arse-head he was! A conniving braggart with no real worth!  
  
Then why was she trembling? Why did she want to turn her face to his and feel him kiss her? Anger began to course through her, and she opened her eyes.  
  
I won't let him win! She thought fiercely.  
  
Win what? This wasn't a contest for Merlin's sake! Or was it?  
  
Her thoughts stumbled when he suddenly dipped her dramatically. Blaise almost gasped as she was bowed gently back, her eyes wide as they met his grey ones. There was a small smile on his face, not quite the smirk he usually wore. There was something different, almost warm in his expression as his eyes sparkled with a playful mischief. She felt her heart pound as he lifted her smoothly up again, wrapping both arms about her, and pulling her close. Blaise was still too stunned to fight him, but she realized she did have to fight him. It was a contest. But why? Did he actually think he had a chance?  
  
It was utterly ridiculous, of course. She remembered a line from a Jane Austen novel."Lizzy, you are too sensible to fall in love simply because you are warned against it!" Had someone warned her against falling in love with Draco Malfoy? Was she rebelling?  
  
No, but somehow she could feel him tugging on her heart. How had this happened? More specifically, how had this happened with someone who naturally so violated her principles, and who took such pleasure in the pain of others? Blaise could not be falling in love with him. It was simply the effects of completing school finally, of knowing that in just a few short hours she'd be free. And maybe because he looked so handsome, and was making her feel wanted. Aha! Flattery! A woman's best friend and worst enemy. It could make you feel warmth towards a demon if used properly.  
  
This demon wasn't going to ensnare Blaise Zabini! She had a life to live, and she'd be damned if she'd let the likes of Malfoy ruin it!  
  
The song ended just as Blaise regained her equilibrium. She met Malfoy's eyes coolly as he smiled down at her, and she thought she saw them widen a bit. What, had he expected her to be swept off her feet? She smiled frostily.  
  
"Shall we sit? You were a bit energetic there, and I'm tired." she said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Malfoy's smile faltered on the tiniest bit, but then was replaced by his usual smirk. He took her arm and led her back to the sparsely populated table. Almost everyone else was still dancing, so Blaise didn't have many to converse with besides Malfoy. Which meant she'd still have to deal with him. They made light conversation, with plenty of snide remarks from both sides. After about an hour of continually talking and sniping, however, Blaise found herself relaxing. They fell into a pattern in which Blaise would make a comment, and Malfoy would respond with sarcasm. Then Blaise would snidely make fun of his remark, and Malfoy would laugh. It was silly, but it seemed to work, and had the added bonus of amusement for both whenever they found someone else (like Pansy) to target their acid towards. There was something to be said for dancing with the King of Cutting Wit whilst he verbally whittled the likes of Pansy or Harry Potter. Not an ideal evening, but it had its moments. Especially when Blaise was treated to a verbal menu of Pansy's history of horrid fashion sense. At some point in the evening, during one of her many escapes to the Ladies Room, Blaise found a moment to affix the rose in her hair. It was now glowing softly, its subtle light forming a sort of halo around her head. Blaise had been slightly amused to see it.  
  
She made very sure to keep the dancing to a minimum, and got away with sitting down through most of the slow songs for the rest of the evening. Except the very last one.  
  
~*~  
  
It was a quarter of midnight, and Blaise was surprised to see that the time had actually flown by. I guess I did have fun, she thought grudgingly. Despite that, her anticipation began to build again, and she began to envision herself stepping off of Platform 9 ¾ and stepping onto another train, then catching a boat bound for France. She sipped her punch with a smile, not noticing Malfoy watching her with a calculating expression on his pale face. The band announced its final song, and Malfoy noted Blaise's lack of attention. Thinking quickly, he wordlessly took the cup from her hands and set it down, sweeping her very quickly out onto the floor while she was still stunned.  
  
Blaise once again found herself wrapped in Malfoy's arms, her body pressed close to his. He swayed slowly, almost suggestively as the slow, pulsing rhythm of the music swept over the Hall. Blaise felt her face flame and she tried to lean back a bit, but Malfoy's arms tightened around her. She was trapped. Trapped against his hard, sleek muscles, feeling the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body. Her heart tripped in her breast and she found herself frozen, unable, or unwilling, to move. Once again his breath tickled her ear, ruffled her hair and she felt goose bumps prickle her skin. She looked away from him, her eyes falling instead on the Hall around her. There were many couples dancing near, and Blaise felt a haze of unreality settle on her as she gazed at them all.  
  
There was Harry Potter dancing with Ginny Weasley, smiling as she looked at him making her face glow with its own light, even though Potter's smile didn't seem as.richly affectionate. Ron Weasley was dancing with Hermione Granger, his ears red as he whispered something to her, which caused her to laugh softly and kiss him. Colin Creevy was dancing with Susan Bones, her blond hair falling like a river of sunlight over her shoulder. His face was calm as she spoke softly, obviously saying goodbye from the redness that was blossoming in her nose, and the wetness that was beginning to form around her eyes. Tracey Davis was dancing with Adrian Pucey, and he looked rather bored at her sad expression. Love and sadness and indifference. What was she herself feeling?  
  
Malfoy leaned in closer to her, and she turned to him at the same moment. They stilled the next moment, when his slightly parted lips came into contact with her smooth cheek. Blaise felt herself shudder, electric tingles racing down her spine at the touch of his soft lips. Malfoy's hands pressed into the small of her back, and he raised his head to look into her eyes. Blaise found herself trembling, her stomach clenching as she looked first at his mouth, those thin lips parted as his tongue snaked out. Then at his cheeks, which were slightly flushed. She could hear his labored breathing, and was dimly startled to find herself in the same fix. Then she looked into his eyes.  
  
They had darkened to a stormy grey, the lids half closed as he regarded her. He seemed to grow, to fill her vision. Her heart began to pound hard, her blood heating to a fiery lava as she realized.  
  
He was going to kiss her.  
  
Unconsciously, Blaise licked her lips. Her throat closed and her mouth went dry. No, this isn't happening! He isn't what I want, and never will be! He's a boorish, rude, monstrous bastard and I want nothing to do with him!  
  
With a soft gasp, Blaise pushed herself away from him, rushing as quickly as she could back to Slytherin Commons. She never saw the look of pain that passed momentarily over his face, nor did she notice that the enchanted flower had tumbled from her hair.  
  
~*~  
  
The sun shone down brightly as the students boarded the Hogwarts Express in Hogsmeade. Blaise looked down as her trunk wobbled along on its legs behind her. A tap of her foot guided it into one of the very back compartments. She actually hoped that she would be alone. It wasn't too much to ask. There were many students, yes, but there were plenty of cars. And with so many grouping with their friends in single cars, Blaise was fairly confident that she'd be undisturbed.  
  
She pulled open an empty compartment and lifted her trunk off its little wooden feet, each booted foot kicking wildly in the free air before disappearing and, stowing it securely, she settled down with a book. Ten minutes later, she looked up and smiled as the train began to move slowly out of the station.  
  
Almost, she thought, feeling her stomach flutter with excitement. Her head filled with images of the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre as she tried to get back into her book.  
  
Roughly an hour later, however, she was interrupted when the door to her compartment suddenly flew open, and a girl with flaming red hair strode in.  
  
"Harry? Are you in here?" she called out, then stopped short when her eyes fell on Blaise.  
  
Ginny Weasley? Blaise thought in confused irritation. The young redhead blinked, straightening her posture and blushing.  
  
"Sorry," Ginny murmured, "I thought."  
  
Blaise's expression was neutral, and she cocked an eyebrow before replying, "I've been in here alone since we left the station. I haven't seen Potter."  
  
Ginny's blush deepened, "Right. erm. I'll just go then."  
  
The young redhead backed out slowly, face flaming almost as brilliantly as her hair, and closed the compartment door quietly behind her.  
  
"That was strange," Blaise muttered, frowning at the door for a moment. A moment later she tossed aside her book, giving up on trying to read it while her thoughts ran rampant. Her spirits were fluttering between joy and fear that something would happen to prevent her escape. She stood and began to pace restlessly in an effort to calm her nerves.  
  
This may be her only chance for freedom; if she couldn't get away today she might never have another chance. In some ways, she was fortunate that her family would not be there to collect her themselves, as they were far too busy for the inconvenience. The unfortunate thing would be their sending Claudine, her mean spirited governess with eyes like a hawk.  
  
If she could manage to slip off the platform in the hustle of students and onto Platform 9 ( for the twenty-five past five train to Brighton, she'd be home free. But this only left her with a ten-minute gap to switch trains unnoticed.  
  
Several hours later, Blaise stood and stretched, trying to get rid of the stiffness in her tense muscles as Platform 9 ¾ became visible through her window. At last, her moment had come! Quickly stowing her book in her bag, she grabbed her trunk and attempted to pull it free from the storage compartment she'd dropped it into. In her excitement, however, it slipped out of her right hand and plunked back down, smashing the fingers of her left hand against the wall.  
  
Blaise let out a hiss of pain, yanking her injured fingers away and cradled them with her other hand.  
  
"You all right?" a voice drawled behind her, causing her to jump. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorframe, watching her with a hooded expression.  
  
Blaise tried not to gasp or breathe too hard. "I'm fine," she replied in what she hoped was a strong voice.  
  
But Malfoy walked in anyway. "Let me see," he commanded, holding out his hand.  
  
Blaise gripped her hand tighter. "I'm fine."  
  
But then he was kneeling in front of her, pulling her hand out and murmuring;, "If your fingers are broken, we ought to ascertain that right away."  
  
Blaise scowled at him, resenting him fiercely and yet grateful that someone cared. How many small or large injuries had she taken over the course of her life? And, except for the odd teacher, who had cared? Blaise was independent because she'd really only ever had herself to count on.  
  
Why was she thinking about this?  
  
She closed her eyes and refocused her mind, blushing as she felt Malfoy's warm, dry fingers touch and pull her fingers straight. She gasped slightly as the nerves protested.  
  
"No damage," he said neutrally, "they aren't broken."  
  
"I knew that," she replied with a glare.  
  
"Why do you hate me?" he asked, just as casually as someone would ask about the weather. Blaise was stunned. Her gaze snapped to his face, looking for any sign of mockery. But there was none. His face had that same, closed expression she was accustomed to, but without the smirk.  
  
"What kind of a question is that?" she snapped, confusion clouding her thoughts.  
  
"An honest one," he said softly, moving closer to her., "You ran from me last night. You've run from me and just about everyone else in all our time at Hogwarts, and I want to know why. What are you afraid of?"  
  
"I'm not afraid of anything," she hissed.  
  
Now the smirk came,. "Too quick an answer, try again."  
  
Anger began to burn in Blaise's chest, and she refused to bandy words with this slimy bastard. She stood abruptly, watching as he followed suit.  
  
"I'll do what I like, when I like. And it will never be to please you, Malfoy!"  
  
Malfoy towered over her, his face flushing and his expression closing somewhat. Blaise was now wishing he'd stayed on his knees, as he was much more intimidating at his full height.  
  
"You've run away from potential friends, allies, me, and now you're running away from your family," Malfoy growled, "Where will it all end, Blaise? When will you get tired of being alone? Not everyone is out to get you, and some people would actually love the opportunity to get to know you better. Hell, you might even do the impossible and find someone to love."  
  
"Love?" Blaise laughed derisively, angry at his interference in her life and seizing the first thing she could use to redirect the argument., "What does a Malfoy know about love? I know you have no concept of the notion, especially if your parents are any example. Political alliances and personal gain are what forward marriages to you!"  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed during her diatribe, his face flushing redder than before. As soon as the last words were out of her mouth, he grabbed her shoulders and pressed his mouth to hers.  
  
Blaise was too stunned to react. His warm lips pressed insistently down on her soft mouth, and she felt a wave of fire explode through her. She became suddenly and exquisitely aware of her unexplored womanhood, and conscious of his hard, sleek body. She yielded to his kiss, feeling his mouth soften and mold itself to hers. His tongue sought entry, and her lips parted slightly, allowing him to gently caress the inner warmth of her mouth. A gentle haze filled her mind as her awareness seemed to pull away from everything except her body, the heat pouring off her and the feel of the blood pounding through her veins.  
  
The sound of approaching voices snapped her back to reality with the force of a thrown brick. She pulled roughly away from him, trembling from head to foot and blushing furiously. Instinctively, she raised the back of her hand and pressed it to her lips.  
  
Malfoy stood staring at her, his own face flushed and his eyes dark as rain. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and Blaise wondered if she looked as he did. What the hell just happened?  
  
"I'm fine, you can go now," she whispered.  
  
Malfoy stared at her a moment longer, then slowly turned to walk out. As he reached the door, he paused and turned back towards her.  
  
"If you ever decide to stop running, let me know," he said softly. A moment later, he was gone.  
  
Blaise stood there for a full minute, unable to move. The shock was so great that for at least half that time she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. But a train whistle blowing snapped her back to reality, and she grabbed her trunk, plopped it on the ground where its legs reappeared, and sped for the nearest exit.  
  
She heard various people hugging and crying as she quickly mingled in the crowd, promising to keep in contact with each other. She couldn't help rolling her eyes at the obvious falseness of emotions. She'd bet her wand arm that half of them wouldn't remember each other in a few months. I thought this should be a separate paragraph, to make clear the quick transition in her thoughts from Malfoy to the others around her.  
  
She knew that close friendships where practically impossible, if you wanted to make something of your life, that is. A pang of loneliness shot through her and for a brief instant, she felt impossibly sad that she had no one to share the adventure she was about to embark on with her.  
  
"Goodbye, Blaise, you'll be coming to the returning home party my parents are throwing for me, so I'll unfortunately see you then," said Pansy. She gave Blaise a condescending glance, obviously unimpressed with the unflattering traveling cloak and robes Blaise had adorned.  
  
Blaise didn't bother answering her, but gave a much worse insult:; she ignored her. She strode away, eyes hunting for the stick-like figure of her governess. Her heart rate increased when she noted her waiting by the exit of the platform. Pulling her hood up, she slipped onto the next platform and froze. Where was the train?  
  
Platform 9 ( stood empty, while across the way, 9 ( boarded. She looked frantically for a way to reach the other train, wherever it was going was fine, she just had to get away.  
  
"Blaise," said a voice behind her, and for a few heart stopping moments she thought she'd been discovered. "Why are you just standing there?"  
  
It was Malfoy, who'd changed into long blue robes. She blinked at him, the scene in the car rearing its head and making her heart trip. She looked around quickly. Time to leave, she thought dazedly. But before she could he reached for her elbow and pulled her down the platforms. I thought this needed an extra phrase, just so it didn't feel jerky. She just kissed him, and I thought it should be evident that's she's still uncomfortable.  
  
"You're not going to succeed that way," he said, looking at her intently.  
  
"Go away! I."  
  
"Here, take this. It will make you unnoticeable in a crowd when you wear it," he said, thrusting something metal in to her hand.  
  
"What?" she asked, feeling stunned.  
  
"Go, the entrance is over there." Malfoy pointed to a set of stairs, and she immediately realized she needed to go over the bridge to get to the other platform. She started in that direction and hesitated. She turned to see him already striding away.  
  
"Malfoy," she called, "thank you."  
  
And then she was running. In a flurry of cloaks she flew up the stones steps, her trunk scuttling as fast as it could on its four tiny legs. The heels of her boots clanked and echoed upon the thick metal panels of the bridge, as her eyes remained locked on the train.  
  
She jumped through a door just as the last whistle blew and the doors slammed shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, she moved to the back of the train and found a compartment mostly taken up by a rather rounded old wizard who was sleeping soundly in his seat. She stowed her trunk and sat down. She owed Malfoy for his help, and that irritated her. E especially when she added it to the kiss they'd shared on the Hogwarts Express. Nevertheless, she was grateful. For the first time she looked down into her palm, to find a thick silver ring engraved with winding snake. It was much too large for her own fingers and she realized that it was his. She remembered seeing him wearing it on his right hand.  
  
Mixed feelings settled in her belly. She couldn't understand why she felt she was leaving something behind, as if she was missing something. The train whistle blew, and she felt her spirits lift. Yes, she was now free, truly free! She turned to the window for one last look at London - and her eyes fell on him. Draco Malfoy was standing next to a pillar, looking at her and holding a familiar red rose. Her heart stopped, and she felt her stomach flutter. As the train moved out of the station, she saw him smell the rose, then point it at her, as if in salute.  
  
A moment later, she lost sight of him. 


End file.
